


Moving on at Less Than 120 Miles an Hour

by misura



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heard you quit your job."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving on at Less Than 120 Miles an Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadownashira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadownashira/gifts).



"Heard you quit your job."

Given the ambient sounds, Jane decided Mashburn was calling from inside a driving car - top down, so someplace sunny. Probably breaking the speed limit. "Eh. It was more of a hobby, really."

"Right," Mashburn said, which was decent of him, really. "We should talk."

"You do realize that makes you sound like - I don't know." He wanted to say 'Lisbon' but that would be cutting a bit too close to the bone. "A guidance counselor. Something along those lines."

He tried to picture Lisbon as a guidance counselor. Didn't work.

"Like I said, I think we should sit down and talk," Mashburn told him, which was not, in fact, an accurate statement; he hadn't even used the phrase 'sit down' before. Or 'I think'.

Jane wondered what it meant that he didn't feel like pointing this out. "If you say so, Walter."

"Right," Mashburn said, which _was_ a verbatim repetition of something he'd said before. "Don't go anyplace I can't find you. I should be there soon."

"Where? In that place you can't find me? That doesn't even begin to make sense," Jane said, before he realized that Mashburn'd already hung up on him, which was fair enough, given that it had been the other way around last time they'd spoken over the phone.

 

"Anything for a thrill, huh?" Jane tried his tea.

It wasn't too bad, given where they were. Mashburn looked faintly annoyed, which probably meant he was the opposite of annoyed. "You think I've never been in this kind of place before?"

"Am I wrong?"

Mashburn shrugged. "It's not where I usually have have lunch, or dinner for that matter, sure. That doesn't mean being here gives me a 'thrill', as you put it."

"There's a jukebox standing in that corner over there," Jane said. "My guess is, it still takes quarters. Do you have any of those with you?"

Mashburn sipped his coffee. The slight tensing of his left shoulder implied he didn't like it. "Why?"

"I thought we could dance. Liven up the place a little. Do you dance, Walter?"

"All right, so what's the plan here?" Mashburn asked. "We dance, we get chased out of town by a bunch of bloodthirsty homophobes - then what?"

"Life-affirming road trip?"

"There's maybe half a dozen people in this place and none of them looks particularly homophobic to me," Mashburn said. "I'm beginning to see why Teresa was worried about you, though."

"I don't," Jane said. "I mean, look at me. Not a care in the world. Perfectly happy."

"Jobless, aimless and bored out of your mind." Mashburn got up. "You want to join me in the thrilling new experience of eating some cherry pie?"

"Don't go selling yourself short now, Walter. I mean, I may not be finding your company particularly intellectually stimulating at the moment, but calling it 'boring' would be a bit harsh, really."

The hesitation was very brief - lizard brain reaction versus thirty plus years of taught behavior.

"You're not an easy person to love, are you, Patrick?" Mashburn said, which was very good and not at all decent of him - especially with the way he left right after, to get that pie, not leaving any room for denials, redirections, protestations.

Always room for a bit of self-reflection, naturally. "Never claimed differently," Jane told the salt, which obligingly failed to disagree with him, so he added, "And who said anything about love, anyway?" and tried not to feel just the tiniest bit guilty.

 

The term 'road trip' might, in fact, be applicable, Jane thought, three days and seventeen cups of so-so tea later. Although most people didn't undertake road trips in the latest model Ferrari, with no backseat to speak of and a laughably small amount of trunk space. You might be able to stuff a body in there, but it'd take an effort.

Fast, yes, but after three days, the glamor had worn rather thin. Which might be the point; road trips were not about the cool car, after all.

"Just what do you picture at the end of this?"

Mashburn shrugged. He liked to keep his eyes on the road when he drove, which was unexpectedly sensible of him. "I don't know. What do you want me to picture?"

"Oh, no. Not getting out of it that easy," Jane said. "Come on, tell me. You're the one who called me 'aimless', which implies that you're not. There's a goal here, a set destination."

"Maybe I'm hoping for a Vegas wedding chapel."

Jane felt a laugh bubble up and let it out. The sound felt strange, alien. "Me as wife number - what? Seven?"

Mashburn shrugged. "Husband number one, technically."

"Huh," Jane said. "I wouldn't have taken you for the type to want to get back with an ex. More the love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. Note that you got us separate rooms in each of the hotels we've been staying so far." Separate, _luxurious_ rooms, which also didn't quite fit the spirit of a road trip.

"You know, Patrick, you give me too much credit," Mashburn said.

"Not one of my usual faults," Jane agreed. "Still, has it occured to you that maybe you give yourself too little? After all, you did give away a painting worth - what? A quarter million dollars? At no personal gain to yourself."

Mashburn didn't bother correcting the number. Eyes on the prize, clearly. "Not all gain is material. I mean, look at us."

"Two idiots in a fast car, breaking the speed limit going nowhere in particular."

"We're both intelligent men, Patrick," Mashburn said. "Much as you may act to the contrary. There are things we could do together, you and I. Things we could accomplish."

"I'm not sure if I would call sex an accomplishment."

"I'm not talking about sex."

"But you're interested in it," Jane said. "You wouldn't be here, otherwise. See, I do know you. The way your mind works. You want something, and that something is concrete. Tangible."

"The town we're about to enter - there was a murder there," Mashburn said. "Very messy. The local police are handling it - "

"Badly." Jane felt his lizard brain stir. "How long ago?" Four days would make the most sense. Three, possibly. Murder was, sadly, not a rare thing - even messy ones.

Even ones the local police were short on good suspects for.

"No. Never mind," Jane said. "We have no official standing whatsoever here. Nice try, though."

"Teresa wrote you a letter of recommendation," Mashburn said. "With some reservations, of course, but glowing enough that they should let us inside the door - and once we're in, I'm confident we can stay there. As unpaid consultants, if need be."

" 'We'?" Jane asked. "Didn't you say Lisbon wrote _me_ , singular, a letter of recommendation?"

Mashburn gave him a look. It wasn't full of warm and fuzzy feelings, which meant Jane's sudden impulse to smile at him or even reach out and kiss him was wholly irrational.

"Partners in crime-solving, huh?" he said. "Well, it's not a Vegas wedding chapel."

"Been there, done that," Mashburn said. "Would you like to drive for a while?"

"I'd love to. Thought you'd never ask."

"Just don't crash this one. The nearest decent car dealership is a couple of hundred miles away."


End file.
